A Mistletoe Kiss
by clfo
Summary: A (hopeful!) continuation of Season 5...how the Christmas special would evolve in a perfect Chelsie world! As ever, the characters and Downton belong to Julian Fellowes - this is merely a spark of my imagination! First time I've published on here :-) Please let me know your thoughts!


_Slowly_, it all crystallised into smething a lot clearer; all the years that they had spent together; working alongside one another, professional at all times, tentatively, rarely touching on something fragile, something almost friendship. They knew every nuance of one another. For them the body language of the other spoke a million times more than mere words. Shared glances at the dinner table, a raised eyebrow here, suppressed smile there, indulgent looks of pride as one of their charges achieved something new. More often of late she had found herself suppressing a giggle in his company, the barriers down a little, there was a promise of a more carefree life, a bit more fun; more chance to live a little. For him, the sense of a contentment beyond mere professionalism, a steadiness that had slowly crept upon him since that day in Brighton. The humour in his eyes as a moment of silliness passed at the table, maybe a hint of a naughtiness hidden within – _you make that sound a little risqué _– that fleeting second as their eyes met knowing they couldn't openly laugh, condone something said that was in any way inappropriate. Whatever happened, they had always had one another to confide in about the paperwork, the household worries; the burden that sometimes, however experienced just didn't make sense without a second opinion. They were, in every sense married to their jobs. It was hard physical labour and often they would find themselves burning the midnight oil yet facing an indescribably early, cold start the next morning. Their pride in the work and their chicks further bonded them together.

It was a different time, a time when hugs and such were frowned upon. Many a time over the years she had yearned for any, some human contact. But no, there was little physical contact at all. Even in the darkest hours of her cancer scare she had never felt close enough to break down in the presence of another. She loved Anna as a daughter but was only too aware that while she held the younger woman's great respect that her position put her above reach. Mrs Patmore had offered comfort, a squeeze of the arm but even then, all those years ago all she had wanted was to be clasped in a real, warm hug. By him. Yes she had pushed him away; afraid to let him see a vulnerability in her; afraid to let down her defences. At other times over the years she had tried to rile him – when Joe Burns asked her to marry him the second time, but as ever his implacability had been flawless.

The thoughtful little gestures had crept in so slowly; a cup of tea after a long day when her face was drawn with weariness, her eyes sunken with fatigue; a thoughtful but firm reprimand for the others to go about their duties as routine rather than bothering him with some minor triviality. Evening sherry had become part of their routine, something to look forward to. Something to be missed when they were apart for the season. How she had revelled in summers alone at Downton in the early years, how later she had come to look forward to his letters from London – a sense of the showman he had once been in the entertaining anecdotes he told so well through his penmanship. She had enjoyed being part of the Season the last two years, seeing the city through the eyes of this cultured and knowledgeable man. A Yorkshire man away from home, he still had that youthful delight in his new days that she had seen glimmers of in his recounts of time spent on the halls with Gregg. Maybe one day she would be able to show him Argyll and even Edinburgh in the same way.

Times were changing; she kept reminding him so. There was an inevitability to it. The ground may have been shaking beneath his feet, but new, American money was what kept them in their jobs; it was futile to fight progress from both sides of the Atlantic. Even he had to admit that electricity and plumbing had improved everyone's lives. She liked seeing change, embracing new-fangled gadgets…the toaster was proof of that. He hated it though, felt threatened by the shifting sands of time. She yearned to say again – take my hand if you Ned to feel steady; she too feared that there would be too many changes for him. That his resistance would build his defences again threatening the fragile stability between them.

She had felt melancholy, unsettled all day. Now exhausted she sat at her desk trying to balance the e household accounts. The figures danced in front of her she was so tired but she was determined to get it right before she went up. She knew that however exhausted she was leaving it now would be futile as she would only toss and turn trying to balance the figures in her head until it was time to get up again. Better do it now and stand a chance of sleep but it was so damned frustrating. It was so difficult to focus though and her mind drifted. When she was unaware of the tears falling until a drop fell on her ledger smudging the ink; unaware that her door had opened. She started as his hand came to rest on her shoulder. A small gesture but one that spoke a million words.

She smiled proudly to herself as she walked through the great hall. The tree was absoloutely magnificent. They had really outdone themselves this year. It was a as if with the unveiling of the war memorial the past had finally been laid to rest and peace had been afforded at last. The war had changed so much. The great houses would never be quite the same again. The balance in staffing had shifted as so many young men were lost. At Downton too it had had a huge impact. Worry about their own had aged them all; young Daisy widowed before she had even had chance to be a wife; life generally had moved on its axis. She smiled as she remembered Mr Carson's look of shock when he read that married women would be enfranchised….she doubted he would ever recover from the recent election of a Labour government! It would be strange though, the family away for Christmas. The house needed to be lived in, enjoyed and my would it be magnificent for their return on the day after Boxing Day. It would be good to see the house full for New Year, it was a house that revelled in glory. That said it would be good to have the freedom of Christmas with just the staff. Her whole staff. Anna had returned to the fold a few days before, aged and wearied by the time she had spent away in custody, but with a glow in her eyes that had been long awaited. However much she wanted to keep her in the fold she knew that come the spring motherhood would call. She laid the basket of greenery she carried on the floor and selecting a piece, pulled up the steps that one of her maids had left to the side (must pull them up on that later, someone could have tripped) Slowly, carefully she climbed, greenery in hand. Thankful for the shorter skirts that even the staff were now able to wear she grimaced slightly as she reached up. …This was no longer as easy as it had once been. _I am not old Mrs Hughes, not young either mind_. His words echoed in her ears as she smiled.

Gently she hung the mistletoe; the hall was complete. A nod to the younger folk of the house. It was time to move on. The shadow of mourning had been cast too long over the house. It was time to have some fun, to live a little. She paused at the tops of the steps smiling as she took in her handiwork, that of her girls, looking on with pride.

Suddenly she became aware of his presence. He approached, as ever silently, with decorum, but she sensed him there as she always had and turned to smile "penny for them" he smiled breaking her reverie "you were miles away! Whatever are you doing up there anyway? I'd have thought it a precarious position from which to daydream. That is what you have a your maids for"

She laughed gently "Yes, but this is my job. That said, these steps aren't as easy as they used to be-maybe I could do with a hand to steady me" Her eyes met his in a mischievous twinkle as he held his hand out with a little bow "you can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady" His large near like paw wrapped gently round hers as she made her descent, seeing him from a different side, the extra grey peppering his hair more noticeable these days. Distracted she stumbled, his other hand reaching out instinctively to catch her steadying her at the waist. She fully expected a rebuke, a reminder that she really shouldn't have been up the steps at all. Instead she caught his eyes; in them a depth she had never seen before, and intensity she would never forget. Gently he leaned forward and his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. The briefest, gentlest kiss ever but a kiss nonetheless; one she e had waited over twenty years for "merry Christmas" he murmured softly, handing her down to solid ground and disappearing as silently as he had come into the room.

The rest of the day felt surreal. She felt completely disconnected from the world around her. The maids could, quite frankly, have done anything and she wouldn't have noticed feeling as she did that she was floating on cloud nine. She mouth tingled where he had kissed, at her waist a subtle pressure where his hand had been. Strangely she didn't see him again throughout the day, although she looked for him, nervously excited like a long lost teenager. Even at lunch he didn't appear, ahvign chosen to eat in his pantry. As the day wore on her elation and anticipation started to wane and be replaced by hurt. It was obvious that he was avoiding her.

She couldn't concentrate. She was normally so dictated to by routines that she floated through the day automatically; even her checks on her girls and what they had done were merely cursory. She caught sight of herself in the library mirror and started; she looked ten years younger. She pulled herself up sharp. It wouldn't do for anyone to tell she was different, but the glow in her cheeks spoke for itself. There was no doubt that she looked, as she e felt, as she was floating on an ethereal cloud. "don't be silly" she chided herself time and time again "it's Christmas silliness, a mistletoe kiss, nothing more…" deep down though, she couldn't shake the feeling of what she had seen in his eyes. The yearning for more, the love light of generations her own eyes shining back at her.

Glimpse of a tired man, a man who she had loved for longer than she could remember who only just in the last few months had started to let his guard down with her

As the day drew on she shook herself more than once, behaving like a love sick teenager she scolded herself as doubts started it set in. Had it even been a kiss or merely an accidental brush as he steadied her? Yet her waist still burned with the imprint of his hand and the colour suffused her cheeks every time she thought of that look, every time she thought of her hopes for the future.

His hands shook as he decanted the wine for dinner. He couldn't believe that he had been so bold, so unprofessional, so careless what… mst she think? What had he been thinking? Yes, their friendship was deepened over the last few weeks. Finally, he had plucked up the courage to mention retirement, to tentatively suggest tah it may even be a joint venture…he had thought of little else since she had held her hand out to him at the beach – such a simple gesture, but one which spoke a million words… a gesture which had given him hope. He had loved her for twenty years. For twenty christmasses he had walked to church with her, for twenty years he had watched her delight in the snow – taking her back to memories of childhood, for twenty years he had fought the feelings that at ttime threatened to overwhelm him. He had come close to telling her a few times; when she was ill and he risked losing her, tiptoeing round in the unknown, feeling the chill of the shadow of death casting its pall over them – even now he went cold when he thought of those dark days and how she e had shut him out; when Joe Burns had reappeared in her life how he had fought that - the urge to fight for her love.

The last eighteen months had been rather wonderful, he had become more open, telling her he didn't feel comfortable disagreeing with her, being more willing to share a joke with her, yet when he finally spoke about the cottage he had made it sound like a mere business proposal – a cottage to rent with "a tidy little sum" to look forward; even then he hadn't had the courage to ask…would Mrs Hughes care to plane for retirement and invest in a future - as Mrs Carson with him. He had seen the confusion, the hurt in her eyes that day and things had not been quite settled between them since. Neither had mentioned it since that day, leaving it as the elephant in the room between them. There had been so much else to occupy them: Rose's wedding (so lovely to have her at his side in London as well as at Downton now); the memorial (she seemed genuinely touched by the gesture made to Mrs Patmore there) and now Anna. He had been the one to turn to her that terrible night when the police had come for Anna. In that moment, his concern was not for Anna, the victim of such cruel injustice, or for Mr Bates, bereft at the awful realisation of history repeating itself; he had barely even registered the presence of Lord Grantham and Lady Mary ( he certainly hadn't noticed the snide aside referring to Mary as Queen of the Upper Nile –normally such disrespect would have riled him) No all he had seen was her. Anna was like a daughter r to her. He knew that. He understood. Staff were no longer staff, they were family. The only family they would ever have now. He had to admit though it was rather nice to be seen in a paternalistic way and they had, overall done a pretty good job. He may not have agreed with her over some of the decisions she had made about her girls over the years (Ethel still rankled highly) but her love for Anna was in no doubt. Now watching her blanched of colour, helpless, a moan of pain stifled behind the professional façade. He admired that in her. She would accuse him of being stuffy were the roles reversed but she had always been the more openly emotional and compassionate… another r way in which she was his perfect foil. Her compassion, his unyielding propriety….at least until this morning…

Simply seeing her aloft her steps as sprightly as a much younger woman something had snapped in him; a fierce protectiveness, a love driven to save her from falling , being hurt. Today, he flushed at the memory, he had lost his legendary control. The gentle banter, the offer of a hand to steady her …he had been simply unable to let go, the mistletoe too tempting. His hand on her waist was instinctive, no more than a steadying hand any friend would have offered, but no who was he kidding…really? Really it was so, so much more than that. The problem was what to do now. He knew he had jumped away in a cloud of bluster. He flushed again, ashamed. If he was confused and it was all his doing heaven alone knew how she was feeling. His left hand strayed as it had so often in the last twelve years to his waistcoat pocket, it was still there, his talisman the simple gold band, set with a ruby, engraved with their initials an unbroken eternity ahead of them.

Taking a deep breath, he tapped on her sitting room door and tentatively pushed it open. Closing it behind him with his foot, as she swivelled in her chair to face him, her eyes glowing as he had never dared dream, he produced a sprig of mistletoe from behind his back.

Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her into him, the softness of his lips as gentle as could be; gentle, new, respectful, heartfelt; it had none of the temerity of earlier in the day. Slowly, she returned it. An unhurried luxurious embrace; after all it had taken twenty years so there was certainly no rush now. A shiver of joy ran through her as, breaking apart she looked into his eyes and saw his earlier bashfulness replaced by a love that she had never dreamed of seeing reflected there.

_Downton is catching up with the times we live in Mrs Hughes, and I am no longer afraid…_


End file.
